


A Prophesy Come True

by CrazyJanaCat



Series: Harrymort One-shots [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Chains, Choking, Collars, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Rape, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 18:03:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5794378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyJanaCat/pseuds/CrazyJanaCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry supposed that the Prophesy had come true, though he had to admit it was not in the way as he had expected it.</p><p>Can be considered a prequel to The Game, but is mostly just a loose one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Prophesy Come True

_***Parseltongue***_

* * *

**"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."**

Harry supposed that the Prophesy had come true, though he had to admit it was not in the way as he had expected it.

_He was dead inside._

Chains clanged softly together as he moved on the cold floor. The young hero – had he even the right to be called that anymore? – curled deeper in on himself, shivering at the cool air hitting his naked skin. He dared not close his eyes, fearing to relive the many bloody torture sessions, the horrid war that had cost the lives of so many of his friends, or the many nights he was visited by Voldemort’s most loyal and sadistic Death Eaters.

That line of thought had Harry’s thighs clamp together unconsciously. It had been a while since last time any of them had come, but he wasn’t sure if it had been mere days, or perhaps even weeks as there was no light in his cell, only cold, hateful darkness. How long had he been here anyway? Months? Years? He had no way of telling and no one bothered to say more to him than sneers, jabs, or how good he felt – and he had just made a whole circle back to that, hadn’t he?

The sound of heavy locks being removed had Harry’s head shoot up, his heart beating in fearful anticipation. A stinging pain started from his scar and Harry immediately knew who it was that came to visit. Even after as long as he’d been there, the pain never lessened during these times.

Once shiny green eyes watched warily as the heavy cell door opened and one figure strode into the small, empty square room. Harry’s stomach clenched as he felt those crimson eyes burning into his skin as they surveyed him with cruel amusement. He shuffled backwards, wincing at the pleased, victorious smirk that pulled at the lipless mouth of his captor.

The chains around his wrists pulled Harry upwards and towards the middle of the room until he was hanging with his arms above his head and his toes barely touching the ground. He almost started hyperventilating in terror, but he kept his breathing slow and his expression blank. On the inside however, he was screaming in fear.

The snake-like man chuckled and slowly walked towards his captive, raising a hand to stroke Harry’s cheek. Unable to stop himself, Harry flinched back from it, the pain in his head intensifying at the touch, but the chains made it unable for him to escape the spidery fingers as the older man dug his nails in his skin and created a large scratch going from his left temple down to his chin. His hand moved down further after, gently stroking Harry’s throat above the heavy iron collar he was forced to wear, making his captive tremble in his bonds.

 ** _*Are you scared of me?*_** Voldemort asked in an amused hiss.

 ** _*Why am I still alive?*_** Harry shot back instead of answering.

Voldemort smiled, a cruel, malicious grin that shook Harry to the core. He was truly terrified at the moment, but he did his best to hide that fear from this man. It might even have been better if Voldemort’s visits weren’t so rare lately. That way he would be able to get used to this.

Voldemort smiled knowingly at him and took a step back and circling Harry, his blood red eyes burning into the other’s pale skin. Harry tensed the second the Dark Lord was out of his sight, but he refused to track his movements by turning his head. No need to show the bastard just how much he was affecting him. of course, his nerves only worsened when Voldemort came to a halt behind him.

**_*Because I want you to be, my Horcrux.*_ **

The serpentine man placed a cool hand on Harry’s shoulder as he continued scrutinizing him, watching the pale, bruised, blood crusted and dirty body that hung before him. Due to the lack of regular feeding, Harry’s already skinny frame was now downright bony. He could count the ribs easily and the young man’s spine was protruding visibly.

“Who visited you last?” Voldemort muttered, more to taunt than actual curiosity.  
“Was it Lucius? Or Rabastan? Dolohov seemed awfully pleased with himself a few days back.”

Harry shivered, remembering each of them too vividly for comfort. Still, he refused to reply and instead pressed his lips tightly together. He was more than aware that Voldemort cared nothing for his answer anyway. The evil man would be pleased enough with knowing Harry had been reminded of the incredible pain he had been through by their hands.

Their words and taunts rung still through his head.

_“Scream for me, little hero.”_

_“Do you think you can save anyone? They’re dead, because of you. You can’t even save yourself.”_

Not that unexpectedly, Harry could feel the familiar prodding of Voldemort’s legilimency. He didn’t bother fighting the forced entry in his mind and allowed his captor to view the terrors that had been caused to him between that moment and the last time he himself had visited the prisoner. This of course led to their last session being brought up.

A sob tore from Harry’s throat unwillingly as his mind brought back the pictures and visions of Voldemort’s most favourite moments of their time together and he shivered. He didn’t want to be reminded of any of this, but as his mind was broken into cruelly and harshly, he couldn’t stop them either.

 ** _*So beautifully broken,*_** Voldemort murmured as he took a step back, releasing Harry’s mind.

Harry couldn’t help but sag in his bonds as his thoughts were given back to him. He closed his eyes and shivered, painfully aware that his captor was still in the room, staring at him with no doubt lustful burning eyes. He didn’t want to see the pleased expression of this man. Not when he was already this broken. If he could still fight, than maybe, _maybe_ he could have fought his own horror and looked back at Voldemort with challenge in his now dulled green eyes, like he had done in the beginning of his imprisonment. All will to fight had left him almost immediately after Fenrir Greyback had entered this prison for the very first time…

Voldemort laughed, as if he was hearing Harry’s thoughts still. It wasn’t really the unexpected, but Harry still tensed in fear at the cruel, high pitched sound.

 ** _*The wolf has been asking me for another play session,*_** Voldemort told him casually.

Harry’s eyes widened in terror. Yes, he feared Voldemort above any of his followers, but the werewolf was a close second. The difference was that he didn’t care to break Harry, like Voldemort, or even any of the others that visited. He only cared for his own sadistic, animalistic pleasure. The young man trembled in his bonds and looked up pleadingly at the man standing in front of him once more.

 ** _*You don’t like that?*_** Voldemort purred.

Harry swallowed and shook his head. He didn’t like that in the slightest. In fact, he was so far from liking it he was about ready to beg Voldemort, one of the only things he had been able _not_ to do in his time here. He was not just broken yet. After all, he was Harry Potter, the Gryffindor Golden Boy. He had his pride, even as he was used as a sex toy for the entire Death Eater Inner Circle.

 ** _*So strong and determined, even after 3 months,*_** the snake-like man murmured gleefully.  
**_*It would have been a shame if you were easy to break, my dear Harry. Keep fighting as long as you can.*_**

Harry bit his tongue and looked away defiantly. He hated the way the man was watching him, dark red eyes alight with lust and pride and sadistic amusement. He heard Voldemort sigh at his dismissal and for a moment, Harry dared to hope that the man would just leave again.

The chains holding up suddenly disappeared and Harry crumpled up on the cold stone floor. His eyes snapped open in surprise and he stared up at Voldemort, shocked. In all his time there, the chains had never once been taken off, so why now?

A month or so back, Harry would have jumped on the chance to have those chains removed, foolishly believing it would give him the leverage he needed to fight back. Now though, now he knew he couldn’t. Change was bad down here. It meant Harry couldn’t predict their next move. It meant he didn’t know in how much pain he was going to be at the end of it, because he knew there would always be pain.

Voldemort smirked and suddenly, Harry realized what position he was in right now, kneeling in front of the man, like he had screamed at him he never would when he was first captured. Harry blushed in shame and tried to scramble back up, but Voldemort’s magic slammed down on him, immobilizing him and forcing him to stay down.

**_*If you obey me like a proper dog, I will not allow anyone to touch you but me.*_ **

Even with the implication that Harry would just turn into a personal sex slave, or a pet even to the man in front of him, Harry was unable to keep hope from filling his chest. Everything had to be better than being used over and over by all these monsters. Even if the biggest monster of them all would just continue doing just that. One was still always better than many.

Harry took a deep breath to calm himself and force the eagerness out of his body. He would rather die a thousand painful deaths than let Voldemort know he was desperate for this. Harry peered up at his captor through his lashes, noting the snake slits of the man’s eyes had expanded. He licked his lips nervously before he looked back down again, unable to bear the sight of this man.

 ** _*What do you want from me?*_** he asked slowly.

“Come here,” Voldemort beckoned, switching back to English as he watched Harry.  
“On all fours of course, like the little bitch you are.”

The former hero blushed in shame, but obeyed none the less. Anything to stop this torture. As he reached Voldemort, Harry stopped and sat back on his heels, his eyes trained on the floor before the terrible man’s feet. He heard the rustling of robes before a hand buried itself in his hair and forced him to look up.

He wasn’t all that surprised when he came face to face with Voldemort’s fat, scaly cock. He swallowed his nerves and dared to glance up, finding the Dark wizard staring down at him with sadistic amusement shining in his blood red eyes.

Harry closed his eyes and opened his mouth as he leaned in, slowly taking the head of his enemy’s prick in his mouth. The hand in his hair tightened immediately and Harry was shoved forward, the cock forcing its way down his throat and past his gag reflex. Harry chocked and started to struggle, but it was no use. Voldemort held him in place with a tight grip and fucked into his mouth roughly.

Harry could do nothing but hang on limply for the ride, trying not to choke and breathing heavily through his nose whenever Voldemort pulled back far enough. Tears prickled in Harry’s eyes as the cock was forced deeper and deeper down his throat with every thrust until his nose bumped against Voldemort’s abdomen every time he bottomed out.

During the whole ordeal, Harry couldn’t help but be absently grateful for the fact that the evil wizard’s hairlessness carried on over his entire body. Some of the Death Eaters that liked to use Harry’s mouth left him picking hairs from between his teeth for several hours after they left, even if he didn’t try to bite them.

A few more agonizing pumps, and Harry could feel the dark wizard’s cock grow larger still. His movements became frantic, a tell-tale sign he was almost at his limit. Desperate for this to end, Harry started sucking in earnest, for the first time since his capture actually reciprocating in anything when they did this to him. If it meant getting out of there, there was very little he wouldn’t do.

Voldemort pushed in Harry’s mouth one last time, pressing the young man’s face into his abdomen as he let out a low, guttural moan. Thick, hot seed spurted out of his cock and down Harry’s throat. In order not to choke, Harry had no choice but to swallow it all down.

When Voldemort was finally done coming, he shoved Harry away from him roughly, making the young wizard sprawl out on the cold stone floor by his feet. The Dark Lord laughed, a terrifying high pitched sound that made all the hairs on Harry’s body stand upright. The young man rolled onto his side and hacked and coughed, grateful for new air reaching his lungs. Spit and cum dribbled past his chapped lips and onto the floor.

“Get up,” Voldemort demanded.

Harry glared at him, a weak gesture after the horrors he had been put through the past several months, but obeyed none the less. He had learned over the course of his stay that fighting only made things worse, and if he was good and did as those men said, they’d get bored of him eventually and leave again without leaving him in too much pain.

He was only halfway in getting on his feet before Voldemort’s patience snapped and he grabbed Harry by his hair. He dragged his captive to a wall and slammed him face first against the bricks, making Harry see stars.

“UP! Open your legs you useless slut!”

Harry whimpered and did as he was told. He pressed his hands against the wall next to his own head and spread his legs. Voldemort huffed annoyed and kicked them further apart before grabbing Harry’s hips roughly and pulling his arse back closer to him.

With one swift thrust, the Dark Lord buried his spit slick cock deep in his prisoner’s hole, making Harry choke and on a pained scream. Harry closed his eyes and bit his lip until it bled. It wasn’t even close to the first time that something like this was done to him, and he had certainly had worse, but it never stopped hurting.

The pull of the hot prick leaving his body almost made him throw up. The slick, wet slapping sounds of Voldemort’s hips against his backside was so sickening Harry wished he could just die, but if he did, then there would be no one left to defeat the Dark wizard.

Harry had to stay alive for the sake of his friends that were still out there. For every muggleborn and half-blood oppressed by the purebloods and Voldemort. He needed to fulfil the prophesy and vanquish the Dark Lord and for that, he had to stay alive and find a way to escape. And escape he would. There was no way Voldemort could keep him locked up forever, right?

… Right?

A cruel hand gripped his head and wrenched it around so he faced Voldemort again. He glanced up in blood red eyes before he realized his mistake. He blinked and averted his eyes, but it was already much too late. Voldemort had seen his thoughts.

“You still think you can get away from me?” the Dark wizard mocked.  
“Your friends are all dead and you, my dear Horecrux are nothing but a tool to be used. You just being alive ensures I will never die. And you being here ensures my cock will never be cold.”

Voldemort gave a high pitched laugh and drove deeper in Harry’s tight passage. The young man sobbed in agony and desperation, his hands scrambling for purchase against the slippery, cold stone wall as he was fucked harder than before. He couldn’t give up on his hopes of getting out, but for how long would he be able to hold on to them like this? How long before he’d finally completely break and give in to the Dark Lord? No. He had to get out before that time came.

The tip of a wand suddenly pressed in Harry’s lower neck and he tensed. Slowly, a small tingling ran down his spine all the way to his tailbone. Before he fully realized what was going on, his entire back exploded in agony. Harry screamed at the extreme burning sensation, all his muscles seizing up from the pain. Voldemort groaned and stuttered in his movements as Harry’s arse clamped up around him. The tightening set off his orgasm and he came inside the young man violently.

Before the Dark Lord was done spending his seed inside the younger male’s body, Harry lost consciousness as the pain became too much to bear.

When Harry woke up, he found himself lying in a bed for the first time since his capture. He kept still for several minutes, just staring at the ceiling as he waited for the illusion of peace and quiet to be gone and to find himself back at his cell. When nothing happened, he sat up slowly, wincing at the strange tingling feeling spreading over his entire back.

The memories of what had happened before he blacked out came flooding back and curiosity rose to what exactly Voldemort had done with his back. Harry got out of bed, stumbling a bit from not having been able to move around for the past three months. Most of his muscles had wasted away, leaving him weaker than he’d ever been, but he gritted his teeth and moved on.

There were two doors leading out of the large, beautiful bedroom. Harry stumbled over to the first one, opening the door and peering into the grand bathroom behind it. He walked in cautiously. There was a large Victorian bathtub, a big shower and several ceiling high mirrors in a corner. The mirrors were all placed strategically facing each other so that if one were to stand in the middle of the half-circle, one would be able to see themselves from all angles.

Harry walked up to the mirrors and stared at himself. He was thin enough to count his own ribs and many patches of skin had turned varying shades of yellow, purple, blue and red. There were claw marks, bite marks and scars that were either made with knives or hexes. His hair was matted and dirty and he had large bags under his eyes from lack of proper sleep. The parts of his skin that weren’t discoloured were extremely pale from lack of sunlight, or any sort of light really.

The marks the chains had left his wrists and ankles with were angry red to contrast this paleness. A shaking hand was brought up to the collar around Harry’s neck. That one had changed. In his cell, he had a blunt iron one that had shafted his neck and throat raw, but now, a shiny golden snake rested there, swallowing its own tale. There were bright emeralds were where its eyes should be and Harry frowned at the chosen colour. It was the same as his own eyes, though his had lost all shine during his imprisonment.

He looked down at himself, eyes widening when his eyes found his now hairless crotch. Where before had been the dark curls of his pubic hair was now pale skin, baby smooth and still unblemished. His armpits were hairless too, and even the dusting that had started growing on his chest and chin was entirely gone. To his horror, Harry realized every strand of hair below his neck was no longer there and the hairlessness combined with his skinny, short frame made him look younger than his actual 18 years.

Swallowing down the bile that threatened to rise, Harry turned his head and inspected his back. His eyes widened and he wanted to scream in horror. Over the entire expanse of his back, the Dark Mark lay, the outlines of the skull and snake thick and black and poisonous green surrounding the hideous tattoo as the snake slowly moved around.

Harry couldn’t help himself. He stumbled backwards and threw himself towards the toilet, hurling up stomach acid as there was no food in his stomach to throw up, into the pot as he sobbed hysterically. This was it, he supposed. This was what his life had come to. The nightmare he’d be forced to live from now on until the day he died.

After a while, he was able to drag himself up again, stomach still heaving, but nothing inside left to throw up. He stumbled over to the large shower and stepped in. He needed to be clean, even if it was just for a while. After everything, he desperately needed to feel like himself again.

The water was burning hot and Harry scrubbed his body with vigour. Memories of the past few months inside that little cell kept flashing before him, forcing him to scrub harder and harder until his skin was red and raw. He washed his hair as well, watching as the water swirled down the small drain colouring pink and brown from all the dirt he cleaned off himself. It took him three turns washing every single part of himself before he realized he’d likely never feel clean again.

When he was finished, he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, donning himself in a large, green towel. He stepped back into the bedroom, carefully looking around to make sure no one else had entered the bedroom since he left and was waiting to ambush him, before he started searching for clothes. He found none.

Harry’s eyes fell back on the second door. He hoped for it to be the exit to this place. Maybe, just maybe he would still be able to escape, even with the ginormous mark on his back. He knew it was futile to hope that it was merely decoration without any practical functions to allow Voldemort some control over his actions, but he refused to think otherwise. He needed the hope for escape, especially now.

To Harry’s disappointment, there was another room behind the door. It seemed like a drawing room, with a roaring fire in the fireplace and several comfortable looking armchairs around it. A small table stood in the corner with two chairs around it and another door at the other side of the room. Hope bloomed in Harry’s chest once more and he slowly entered the room.

“Awake I see.”

The cold, hissing voice made Harry’s hope plummet faster than it had risen and he looked back over to the armchairs. Voldemort sat with his back towards Harry, a book in his white, bony hands as he read peacefully.

Harry shook his head and backed up back towards the door he had come from. The mere thought of being around this man – no, this _monster_ – was too much to bear at the moment. He wanted to turn around and run, find some place to hide, but he found his body locking up, ignoring his mental screams to move and get the hell away from there. He was confused all for two seconds before the mark on his back started pulsing.

 ** _*You’ll leave only when I am done with you,*_** the Dark Lord hissed.

Slowly, the snake man rose from his chair and walked over to where Harry was standing. Voldemort reached out with one hand and softly caressed Harry’s cheek. The teen wanted to jerk away, but again, his body refused to follow his order and he had no choice but to stay put as spidery fingers ghosted over his pale skin and slid into his still wet hair.

He winced, a barely there twitch in his eyes, as Voldemort gripped his hair and yanked him forward. That same instant, whatever spell had been over him to keep him from moving was gone. He shouted and his hands went up to try and pry Voldemort’s grip off of him. It was useless, and Harry found himself dragged over to the chair Voldemort had recently occupied and he was shoved over the armrest.

His face was roughly pressed into the seat cushions and the towel was ripped from his waist. Tears started pricking in the corner of Harry’s eyes as he realized what was about to happen. He started struggling in earnest, but soon, the pulsing in his back started up again and all movements ceased without his consent.

“P-please, no!” he whimpered.

He had barely spoken or the collar around his neck started constricting, making him choke. He wanted to move his arms, needed to try and elevate the pressure around his neck, but they still refused service. Voldemort ignore his gurgled protests and kicked Harry’s legs wider open.

 ** _*I didn’t allow you to speak, you filthy little slut!*_** he hissed furiously.

He pushed in at the same time as he hissed those last three words, spearing Harry open without the help of stretching or lubrication. If Harry had still been able to breath and talk, he would have screamed in agony as he was split in two by the Dark Lords thick shaft. As it was, he could only wheeze painfully.

The evil wizard immediately set a rough, punishing rhythm that rocked the chair and Harry with every thrust. Tears were leaking out of dull green eyes at a constant pace now as the young man wheezed and gurgled. He still couldn’t breathe, and that, along with the pain of being fucked into harshly made black spots dance before his eyes.

Harry was at the verge of blacking out when the collar let up and allowed him to take in deep breath of fresh air. The sudden rush of air into his lungs made him dizzy and he closed his eyes, wishing for unconsciousness to claim him and take him far away from this torture. An electric shock going up his spine had his eyes open wide again and he arched his back in pain, his muscles clamping down on the intrusion deep inside of him.

Voldemort groaned and stuttered in his thrusting. His grip on Harry’s hips tightened and he pulled the teen back against him, grounding his pelvis harshly against the pale arse. Harry whimpered in pain, convulsing as more electricity seemed to course through his body and back.

With a low moan, Voldemort stilled, grounding his erection as deep into Harry’s tight hot channel as it could go before he released his seed with a shudder. Harry closed his eyes at the feeling of being filled by his enemy’s come and he bit his tongue to stop himself from throwing up. Blood flowed his mouth at a steady pace, but he ignored it. All his attention was at his backside, which was throbbing and sore even as Voldemort slid his softening cock out of him. He was followed by a small trickle of cum, making Harry flinch and Voldemort laugh.

Harry could feel the control of his limbs returning to him the second Voldemort had stepped away, but he didn’t try to fight or run. Instead, he curled up in the chair and sobbed. He could feel his captor’s blood red gaze on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to return it. Voldemort huffed and turned his back on Harry. With a wave of his hand, the small table on the side was suddenly filled with food and he started to walk to the far door.

“Eat. You’ll need the energy once I return,” he ordered before he slammed the door behind him.

Harry flinched again at the loud sound and wasn’t at all surprised to hear the soft click of a lock sliding in place. He glanced over to the table and the delicious looking food stalled there, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Besides, he could already tell that anything he ate now would soon find it’s was back out.

He curled deeper into himself. His arse stung, his legs were jelly and his back tingled. Voldemort’s threat sounded through his head over and over. He’d be back soon and do this all over again. He’d probably use and rape Harry many times still, but wasn’t that what Harry had begged of him earlier when they were still inside that dungeon cell? He had wanted to get out of there desperately enough that he had given into Voldemort’s demands so easily. Anything to not be used as a fuck toy to his many Death Eaters.

This was it, Harry thought as he started crying again. This was his life from now on. Locked inside a room, waiting for his worst enemy to remember his existence and come fuck him. He couldn’t hope for escape anymore. No one would come rescue him at this point. He wasn’t even sure there was anyone left alive to even try.

At last, exhaustion claimed the worn teen and Harry drifted off in a restless, nightmare filled sleep, waiting to be awakened by his tormentor to start the torture once again.

.

**"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."**

Harry supposed that the Prophesy had come true, though he had to admit it was not in the way as he had expected it.

What he was now, it wasn’t truly living nor could it be call surviving, not really. This was worse than death, worse than torture, but he knew Voldemort would never grand him the relief Death would give. No. Voldemort had killed him already when he chose to keep Harry as a trophy, locked away to be used for his own sick pleasures.

Voldemort had killed him by keeping him alive, and that was a fate far worse than death.

 


End file.
